


that's how i wanna go

by orphan_account



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sometimes, Geralt catches himself watching.It starts small. The rings on Jaskier’s fingers, the way the bard used his hands and his motions to enhance his stories and capture the audience’s attention. Even if it didn’t always work on the crowd gathered in the tavern, it certainly always worked on Geralt.Jaskier’s hands were becoming a distraction.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 23
Kudos: 593





	that's how i wanna go

**Author's Note:**

> am i projecting on geralt a bit? maybe. but have you seen joey's arms/hands? do you blame me?  
> anyways, this is my first nsfw anything so be gentle. ty.

Sometimes, Geralt catches himself watching. 

It starts small. The rings on Jaskier’s fingers, the way the bard used his hands and his motions to enhance his stories and capture the audience’s attention. Even if it didn’t always work on the crowd gathered in the tavern, it certainly always worked on Geralt. 

Jaskier’s hands were becoming a distraction. Long lithe fingers attached to thin wrists and arms that hid strength dominated Geralt’s waking thoughts. It was fine, he thought as he watched the way the bard’s fingers wrapped around his mug of ale, his rings clinking against the earthenware. 

Then one night, a night they were in an inn, settled in for a couple of days while waiting for Geralt to finish up a contract Jaskier pulled out a roll of something that Geralt recognized as the strings for his lute. Jaskier had been complaining for a couple of days now that it was time to change the strings, that they were wearing down and becoming harder and harder to coax sweet music from. 

Jaskier worked methodically, brow furrowed in concentration. He pulled the pegs from his lute, unwound the old strings and got to work tying in the new ones. Geralt tried to sleep, he really did, but soon found himself just watching the way Jaskier’s slender fingers deftly took apart his lute and put it back together again.

Geralt wanted Jaskier to take him apart like that. 

Well, Geralt thought, blinking at himself in surprise. That was certainly a new thought, and now it was one he couldn’t get out of his head. Every time Jaskier chewed on his nails, tugged on his lips, his hair, his clothes, spun his rings, Geralt found himself entranced. 

Frankly, it was ridiculous, but ignorable.

Until it suddenly wasn’t. 

They were camping in the woods again, in between towns and contracts. Geralt had left to go rinse off a week’s worth of god knows what in the stream just off from their camp when he heard well...something. It sounded like a whine, like Jaskier. He left the stream and padded back to the camp on light feet. 

Just outside the ring of light cast by the fire, was Jaskier. He was on his back, blanket pushed to the side to allow in the cool night air. His shirt was pushed up, and his trousers were pushed down slightly, moved out of the way so Jaskier could wrap lithe fingers around his dick. 

As Geralt watches, Jaskier tugs once, twice, sliding his fingers up and over the tip, smearing the precum gathered there down the shaft. He did this several times over, his breaths growing shorter and harsher with each pass. A whine made its way past his lips and Jaskier puts two fingers in his mouth, biting down to keep any other noises from escaping. 

Geralt’s pants were uncomfortably tight at this point, but he could do nothing but watch, transfixed at how Jaskier’s fingers looked wrapped around his own dick and stuffed in his mouth. 

And then Jaskier’s back was arching, a breathy moan escaping from between his fingers as his dick pulsed and cum coated his fingers. He relaxes after a second, carefully extracting spit-slick fingers from his mouth. 

Even from this distance, Geralt can smell the heavy scent of Jaskier, of buttercups and sex and he can see the teeth marks left behind on Jaskier’s fingers. Geralt lets out a low noise when he realizes he wants to leave his own marks on Jaskier’s skin, wants to do anything the bard will let him do. 

Geralt swallows harshly before quietly making his way back to the stream to take care of his own problem. By the time Geralt stumbles his way back into the camp, the bard is curled on his side, fast asleep and snoring.

It gets so much worse, after that night. 

Geralt tries to ignore the way arousal courses through his veins pretty much anytime Jaskier does anything. Anytime he plays his lute, fiddles with his rings, anytime long fingers work through Geralt’s hair and gently remove tangles and anything else that dirties his snow-white hair.  
  
In an attempt to deal with the problem, he goes to brothels, but when the whores wrap their hands around his dick, it’s not enough. They’re too soft, not long enough, strong enough. Their fingers aren’t made rough by years of playing a lute and collecting calluses as proof of progress. They aren’t Jaskier. 

With a curse, Geralt pushes the current girl off and stands up to get dressed.

He’s quick to assure her that it’s not her and leaves her with a generous tip for the night before trudging his way back to the inn, to the room he’s sharing with Jaskier. He’s horny and frustrated, on the brink of snapping. 

Jaskier is still awake. He’s sitting in the corner, idly plucking notes on his lute, but not actively working on composing anything. Not that there’s anything to compose, not yet, not when Geralt’s contract is set to start tomorrow night. 

And yet, Jaskier is watching him with dark eyes, like he’s trying to see _through_ Geralt and make sense of something. He plucks another few notes, and Geralt finds his eyes being drawn once again to those sinful fingers. 

It’s Jaskier who speaks first. “No good ladies tonight, then?” He’s got a half smirk, like he already knows the answer just by Geralt’s ragged appearance and tense shoulders. 

Geralt grunts, already hanging his coat on the wall and tugging off his boots. “Wasn’t in the mood.”

“For sex?” Jaskier has set his lute aside and is leaning forwards, fingers laced just underneath his chin. “Or perhaps you just weren’t in the mood for that person. Perhaps you wanted someone else.” 

There’s a gleam in Jaskier’s eyes that Geralt doesn’t recognize. It puts Geralt on the defensive. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Geralt settles in front of the fire, and places his sword in his lap, cleaning it in preparation for tomorrow night. He hears Jaskier move closer and feels breath brush past his ear.

“Are you sure? I know you’ve been watching me.”

Geralt hums, tilting his head and making eye contact with Jaskier just over his shoulder. “You’re hard to ignore.” 

“Ah, yes, but this is different.” Jaskier is grinning. His voice drops, and he trails fingers through Geralt’s hair, gently tugging out the tie holding it back. “I know you were watching that night, in the woods.”

Geralt opens his mouth to argue, but then Jaskier is tugging his hair and Geralt’s words cut off in a groan. Jaskier releases his grip on Geralt’s hair and steps around him, so that he’s standing in front of Geralt. 

“I may have been preoccupied, but I am neither blind nor deaf.” Jaskier gently pries the sword out of Geralt’s hands and moves it to the side. He settles himself down, knees on either side of Geralt’s lap. His hands are soft, cupping Geralt’s face as he leans in closer and closer, until he’s speaking against Geralt’s lips. “Did you enjoy the show?”

It’s a bold move, what the bard is doing. If anybody else had tried any of what Jaskier was doing right now, Geralt is sure they would’ve ended up with something worse than the fist in the gut Jaskier got when they first met. But with Jaskier...with Jaskier, it was okay, more than okay. Geralt wanted more, but Jaskier was hovering just above Geralt’s mouth, waiting for the Witcher to make his move. 

Geralt closes the distance and captures Jaskier’s mouth in a searing kiss. His hands wander, up Jaskier’s back, teasing fingers flitting underneath the soft undershirt Jaskier insists on wearing before pulling it off completely. 

Jaskier returns the favor, and Geralt’s shirt ends up somewhere behind him. 

His hands end up in Jaskier’s hair, tugging lightly. He feels the bard grin against him. Geralt uses his leverage to try and push the bard down, to lay him flat on his back so Geralt can suck marks into the pale skin of Jaskier’s throat, but Jaskier holds firm. 

Jaskier places a flat palm on Geralt’s chest and pushes the Witcher back so that Geralt is the one laying down, left looking up at the beautifully disheveled man above him. 

Jaskier’s hair is wild from Geralt’s hands. His eyes are blown wide, the blue nearly swallowed by black. The sight of Jaskier’s kiss-swollen lips coupled with the flush that spreads from his cheeks and disappears under the collar of Jaskier’s shirt has Geralt hard in an instant. 

He wants Jaskier, in anyway the bard wants. And isn’t that scary, a Witcher willing to give up so much power to a bard. What people would think of him, if they could see him now, pinned beneath Jaskier, hands resting on the bard’s thighs as Geralt waits for Jaskier to make up his mind.

Jaskier looks far too smug, like he knows the thoughts that are racing through Geralt’s head right now. “Don’t worry,” Jaskier says, reaching forward to trace Geralt’s lips. “Just make sure you keep your eyes on me, okay?”

Geralt groans as Jaskier shimmies his way down and settles in between the Witcher’s legs, but Geralt does as he’s told. Gold eyes stays locked onto Jaskier. 

Jaskier makes quick work of the laces holding up Geralt’s trousers before he’s shoving them and Geralt’s smallclothes out of the way. Hot breath ghosts across Geralt’s dick and Geralt groans, head falling back against the floor. Jaskier laughs and pulls back, which is the exact opposite of what Geralt wants. 

Geralt lifts his head to find Jaskier staring at him, eyebrow raised. 

“I said eyes on me, Witcher.” When he’s sure that Geralt is watching him, Jaskier leans back down and takes Geralt’s dick in his mouth. 

This time, Geralt keeps his head up and his eyes open. 

Jaskier hollows his cheeks and takes in as much as he can. What he can’t reach, he wraps a hand around. He pulls back and then off, fingers following a burning trail over the head of Geralt’s dick before sucking it into his mouth again. 

The sensation coupled with the sight of Jaskier sinking around his dick is soon too much. Geralt reaches down and tugs on Jaskier’s hair, a warning that Jaskier staunchly ignores. In fact, it seems to spur him on, and he speeds up. 

Jaskier gives one last strong suck and Geralt is coming with a groan. Jaskier swallows around Geralt’s dick, and Geralt curses. Geralt is boneless on the floor when Jaskier removes his mouth from Geralt’s dick with an obscene pop. Jaskier is breathless but obviously pleased. 

Geralt allows himself another second to bask in the afterglow before he reaches out and tugs Jaskier forward by his hips. He props his legs up, but Jaskier leans forward, hands spread out across Geralt’s chest.  
  
“Geralt?” Now Jaskier seems slightly out of his element. “What do you want?”

Instead of answering, Geralt works on the laces to Jaskier’s trousers, loosening them enough until he can free Jaskier’s dick. He grabs one of Jaskier’s hands from where it was resting and brings it down towards Jaskier’s dick. Jaskier takes the hint. 

Like that night in the woods, Jaskier works himself over, lute calloused fingers setting a harsh rhythm. He tries, at some point to lean down and press a kiss to Geralt’s lips, but Geralt growls and gently pushes him back. 

Jaskier looks hurt, and almost stops before Geralt speaks. “You said to watch,” he explains, settling hands back on Jaskier’s thighs. Watching, but not touching.

Something flashes in Jaskier’s eyes and then he’s curling in on himself as his cum coats Geralt’s chest in hot strips. Only once Jaskier has stopped shivering does Geralt wrap a hand around the back of the bard’s head and tug him down. 

Jaskier makes a soft noise of protest when the movement brings him in contact with the mess on Geralt’s chest, but Geralt doesn’t seem to care and he’s so tired. Jaskier collapses on top of Geralt, burying his nose in the Witcher’s throat and taking a deep breath. 

They stay on the floor for a while, until Jaskier’s knees start to hurt. They peel apart, Jaskier making a face at the dried cum on his chest. Geralt picks him up and deposits him on the bed before getting a rag and cleaning them both up. 

Jaskier’s holding the covers up when he returns, so Geralt slides in beside him. Jaskier opens his mouth to speak, but Geralt shushes him. “We can talk about it in the morning,” he says, laying an arm across Jaskier’s chest and tangling his fingers with the bard’s. 

He’s asleep before the bard can say anything else. Jaskier’s asleep soon after. 

**Author's Note:**

> title from [collar full](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZAIEAG6Vgk) by panic! 
> 
> as always you can catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/GODF0RSAKEN)/[tumblr](https://ninemelodies.tumblr.com/)


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